robot porn's blog: "muse."

it was a mistake. and by it i mean you. every kidnapped kiss from your lips on mine. every brush from your hand. every time your arm made its way across my throat... was a fucking mistake. but i'll get over it. this freefall is going to leave me fine.

how is it... that i still want? how is it... that i still feel? and how is it... that it's not hate? how is it... that i don't feel apathetic? please tell me. please explain it. for now i'm occupied. and that is all

i'm not really feeling how i thought i was feeling then. i'm broken. i'm fucked up in the head. like a razorblade covered in lust cutting out the love covered in you. it's over. i'm covered in bruises and this time it's literal. this time it's for keeps. this time it's for you. i can't even fucking write anymore. i'm killing the words like i've killed every god damned from the start emotion that's ever been flung my way. stunned from the get go. or was that stunted? go ahead and love me if that's what you felt you wanted to do. but i assure you it's a bad idea. and this isn't just me being emotional. this isn't black fingernails and new holes in the face of a sixteen year old wet on the edges little boy filled with hatred towards everything that doesn't love him enough to pop a pimple on his exposed ribcage back. this is real. this is the end. but i promise... more than i've ever promised anything in my life... this wasn't a mistake. everything happens for a reason. is this my fate?

speaking of tomorrow. here i come with a fresh plate of mistakes in one hand and prime rib in the other. we're fresh out of cajun and it's medium rare... but i assure it's simmered to perfection. so let's clean up your face and get on with it. i'm coming home soon... and there you will be. here you will be. you and she. a fresh glass of white wine and socks to be removed. slobber from you and kisses from her. it's a crazy fucked up life we're living here darling... but it's just right. and it's all for you. all for her. all for we. some day i'll answer to mrs., but today i'm peter pan. yesterday i was... what was i again? it's the start of something beautiful i can tell. the start of a razorblade thick with sweat downthetipofatonguedownthenapeofyourneckdownthesmallofyourback down my face. that's meant to be said slow like. at the end there. like you were holding your breath for ten years and it escaped. that is... if ten years is all the same. like a slow motion scene... but i was sure you were born yesterday. your tongue isn't sharp enough. your eyes are too bright. your skin is too thin. let's go. let's go. let's go. let. go.

it is a fucking cage

it's a dizzy clouded over kind of night and i'm catching fireflies out of the corner of my eye and muffled voices under the cool calm and collected tone of my breath i need you to continue pounding these things into my head i need you to use a sledge hammer. let's disappear for awhile. start driving and become the mist rather than floating in it. i'm going to choke back on my superstitions stop myself in my tracks and just believe in you the sweet taste of honey is on your lips darling, and it's making me sneeze. my kisses are burning the back of your throat and your tickling mine with your thumb prints from the outside feeling in. i awoke covered in sweat as i often do, waking up thinking i was back there only dreaming of you. this time when i rolled over i realized the sweat wasn't my own. and for some god awful reason, i still didn't believe. i need it to rain like it's never going to rain again. pour down on me and drench every unclean spot in acid. it seems as if it's the only way i'll ever snap out of this.

i'm floating on the edge here and it's been a long couple of days. sleep schedule fucked and bruises up and down my being, let's start off where it ended. a slammed door choked me up and the slammer was myself. a broken promise and an idea i wasn't so fond of. i always kinda knew it would end with you. there were only a couple of tears... the ones rolling down your face and the ones in the plan that ripped apart the atmosphere. i'm channeling now. and rushing. oh god am i rushing. the water has just gotten warm enough for me to dive right in, but instead of being blue it's covered with leaves from last night. like it knew we were coming like it knew i was crying. like it knew i'd been thrown out of the moving car. (even though the shiny tin creation was only moving at a snails pace... if moving at all) "i'm gonna ride the wings" "i'm gonna fly away" "i'm gonna take that chance" and so i do. i move twenty two in four and i'm careless. i'm careless. i'm careless. i'm terrified now. there's a boy on the bed and food in the fridge. there's a smile on my face and light in my eyes. there are clothes on the floor bruises covering every last aspect of my flesh. and that's how it will stay. that's how it will be. i will be disciplined and you will be teased. and we will fuck like there's no tomorrow. let's try that happiness thing for a second. we'll skip to the more difficult levels at a later date.

i’m better at telling stories, you know. ones that start out with “once upon a time” there are princes, and princesses, and princesses who don’t know they’re princesses. there are frogs, talking animals… and houses made of wonderful things like candies and cookies. turn your eyes if you have a weak stomach i can’t help what comes out as of now. can you tell my brain… to… knock it off? and then there’s a storyline. as i stated, it’s going to start out with “once upon a time” there’s going to be a boy, and there’s going to be a girl. a dream boy and a real girl to be exact. there are going to be bombs, and butterflies. mountains covered in ash. curtains drawn and curtains open. too late, you’re too caught up i didn’t intend on reeling you in. can’t turn back now. know that this was your fault strawberries and houses made of brick. hearts will be crushed and games will be played. two minds thinking alike will likely rub one out (in a sick and twisted mindfuck of togetherness.) there will be plays on words, and words holding knives. those of course, are not playing. from what i hear there are puppies. and a chosen two to four. for, they are key assets. there will be chains and torture devices. entire rooms of what the master calls “toys” and there will be tears and blood shed. this isn’t a story for children you know. from what my head tells me, there will be walks taken hand in hand. girls led into thoughts which they cannot speak of. boys crying. believe me, i didn’t invite you ordinary people don’t understand over achievers need not apply my mind is a work of art and in the end, of this amazing fairytale there will be no “happily ever after” because forever is never enough. is there something i forgot? oh yes, content. that of which there is none. there is only he and i. but there is a moral. get your own fucking glass of orange juice. it’s not the story, it’s just the outline.

there are always eight aren’t there? but this one isn’t it. for now we’ll stick with seven because i’ve always enjoyed seven. even with the fear. it’s probably the worst one i’ve obtained over the years. nothings quite right in them, and nothings quite right in me. it should bring us closer together, shouldn’t it? it doesn’t and it never will. like you and i… we’ll never quite fit and we’ll never quite be, but we’ll be something. something great, even with the bruises and broken hearts. an end all. “this one’s bad.” i know it is. i can feel it deep inside, but that doesn’t mean it’s less true darling. today i need a peck on the cheek and a smack on the ass to get moving. let’s get motivated. freeze time and disappear. i swear the lightning bolt will only make me able to teleport. i heard… him… tell me so. he whispered it to me this morning during a nap. which doesn’t really make any sense because i was thinking of it last night. before he existed. it’s funny, you know. the way my brain works… standard biology, kind of like the topic of conversation this morning. after a hard nights work. things are always hard. did you get a good mornings rest? i told you i’d do it, but that i wasn’t going to force it. the issue with that is that this one is more real, yet feels more forced. these are my thoughts, and i’m getting weary that after eight they’re all going to stop. hell, they tried to stop yesterday. they drove me crazy until i put them back together. my brain is over there lying on the floor, and i think it’s because you smashed the jar on the shelf. sentences aren’t supposed to take up two lines, that’s never happened before. “weird.” as meaningless as this one is, i don’t want it to end. it feels like if i just keep going, it’ll keep us fresh. when you close a chapter, a new one begins… but i’m not sure this one is ready to end. that’s why this has taken so long. we’re going to leave it at “not quite” so that you can continue loving me the way you do now. there’s another double liner. “strange.”

i had this amazing thought to write out earlier. but now it’s just empty space. i can’t remember, and i sure as fuck can’t forget. you were my speech bubble. an impending thought. a desperate attempt. i don’t even know where i’m going with this and i know for a fact that i don’t know where i’ve been. or maybe i do? maybe i’ve been all over town. maybe you’ve been all over my thoughts. do me a favor baby, hand me the .38. i know i don’t have permission… but god damn the idea is tempting me. urging me on. toying with me like you do. i can’t complete a thought. i don’t know where you took them, but they are no longer in my head. let’s just fuck so i don’t have to think. i can just move. and just be. you can think for me. fill your head with me… and i’ll fill my womanhood with you. it’s a splendid idea. commence.